


Affinity

by missmollyetc



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Ninja Storm
Genre: Canon Character of Color, M/M, OT3, Pseudo-Incest, The Author Regrets Nothing, in lieu of canon make things up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:18:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmollyetc/pseuds/missmollyetc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wind ninjas—when you caught them, they never escaped; they just took you with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affinity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ryuutchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuutchi/gifts).



> All thanks and praise goes to [thesecondbatgirl](http://thesecondbatgirl.livejournal.com) for general audiencing and handholding, as well as [jamethiel_bane](http://jamethiel_bane.livejournal.com) and [shihadchick](http://shihadchick.livejournal.com) for talking me down off that ledge. Believe me when I say that all mistakes are most assuredly mine.

When Blake had stepped out of the meditation area Cam had set up near the server farm, there’d been a message tucked inside his bootlaces: _Five minutes, our place_ , which made perfect sense if you were Hunter and only forty percent sense if you’d been raised with him. The red ink had been dry, no telling when it’d been placed there, but there’d been an ‘S’ scrawled next to the ‘H’ on the note. Shane had been working a full day at Storm Chargers; it was just past six now. 

Blake walked down the side stairwell from the main control room to the underground living quarters, and pushed open the heavy metal fire door with both hands on the bar. He glanced up at the Wind symbol etched into the lintel as he passed, and repressed a shiver. Every day he spent outside the Thunder temple Blake felt like he was trying on a new skin, itchy and tight in the wrong places, but somehow the Wind’s Ninja Ops felt more confining. It reminded Blake of the way their temple had been constructed before Lothor’s attack had blasted it to a crater, but as if someone had taken a picture of his home and…straightened it out, lengthened all the familiar twists into curves. Sometimes it helped that Ops below ground was absolutely Cam’s baby, all clean metal lines and blinking lights, instead of rough stone and ancient electricity. Sometimes it felt like he and Hunter were living inside a microchip—and no wonder, who else but a samurai would create such a place, full of nooks and crannies to conceal yourself, but no poison traps or intentionally weak floors at all. His element was next to useless inside Ninja Ops, not enough shadows and too much unstructured light.

Hunter hated it; he’d started drawing up security plans in their downtime, and goading Cam into running drills. Blake grinned to himself, ducking his head as he passed the security camera high up on the wall. He’d wanted to add three more ammunition caches specific to Thunder element discipline last week, and if he and Shane hadn’t dragged them both out of the armory, they’d probably still be arguing about the difference between necessary force and paranoiac bunker building. Sensei Omino used to say—Blake shook his head, feeling his smile collapse—Sensei Omino _said_ that the Wind Ninjas were as flighty as their name, always jumping from one bright idea to the next without stopping to see the job through. Only Thunder had the sense to torment its enemies until annihilation was a comfort. 

Except that Sensei was defeated, imprisoned along with all their people, and he and Hunter had been misled and betrayed; turned out too much shadow was just as bad as too little. Blake pressed his left hand over the academy badge on his uniform, and tucked his fingers underneath the heavy leather panel of his jacket. He walked through the open bulkhead off the main underground corridor, and down a step to the sunken kitchen. Empty, of course, but his and Hunter’s chairs had been pushed in at different angles to how they’d been left after breakfast, while Cam’s chair remained in position. The air smelled like Shane’s mother’s kale moa. She’d been trying to feed them up since the first time Shane had dragged them home. Blake walked around the table. He took off his heavy gloves, and ran his fingertips along the edge of the sink as he passed; no plates, but still damp, and it wasn’t Cam’s turn to do the dishes.

He tucked his gloves underneath his belt, and licked his lips. His stomach tensed. His feet wanted to hurry, but Blake made sure his weight was on his heels rather than the balls of his feet, keeping himself to a steady, even pace. The riveted metal flooring felt cold, even through the thick soles of his boots. Blake concentrated on his breathing. Fighting alongside the other ninjas, the…the connection he felt, the way his and Hunter’s elements fit into the Wind Ninjas defenses like keys into a lock, it made him want a future almost as far-fetched as Hunter’s ideas for cutting murder holes into the support struts. After the attack, he’d always figured they’d have to rebuild the Thunder Academy, if they survived killing the Winds. Now, he found himself looking at competition posters again, and getting ideas about sharing hotel rooms big enough for three. 

Maybe that was why Sensei never let the two academies interact, not even in exhibition like the Typhoon and Ice academies, because he had kno—he knew what would happen if they met. How…how distracting the Wind Ninjas really were. He’d nearly blown it with Tori before they’d freed themselves from Lothor, just because her sense of honor had pulled at him like a tide; still did, even now, when she was dragging Cam into some kind of working balance with the rest of his life. He’d been showboating with Dustin on the track yesterday—pulling stunts to make Shane laugh—when he should have been working on his timing off the fourth ramp. Shin-shin shin-gan, Hunter was the eyes and Blake was the mind. They’d been intended as a matched pair since their adoption. _Hunter_ could push forward as fast as he wanted, bold and obvious from miles away, but Blake’s way was the summer storm, quick and unlooked for. 

Blake swallowed, and turned right off the main hallway, into the curved passage where Cam had set up their bedrooms. Both openings of their isolated semi-circle could be locked down with a click of a button if he or Hunter put the slightest toe out of line. It’d been the first warning Cam had given them; clever samurai, but inefficient ninja. Blake stepped over the wide, raised metal threshold and picked up the red skateboard lying wheels-up on the floor. Two red backpacks lay piled on top of each other outside Hunter’s bedroom door; so obvious he was ashamed of them. He bent at the waist, and picked those up as well, tucking the skateboard underneath his arm.

He touched the fingerprint plate, and the door opened, soundlessly. Nothing about Hunter had been off-limits to Blake since the Bradleys had taken them in. He slipped inside and to the right, knocking his elbow against the inner plate to close it as soon as possible.

Hunter and Shane lay on the bed, kissing. Shane’s uniform jacket was open, undershirt stretched out at the neck, but Hunter had lost half his uniform, lying spread out and shirtless. Blake watched Shane’s hand rubbing down Hunter’s naked side. Hunter’s hands kneaded at Shane’s hips, fingers digging into his thighs. Shane drew back; his lips nuzzled up and along Hunter’s cheekbone as Hunter turned his head.

“Nice of you to join us, bro,” he said, licking the swollen bow of his mouth.

Shane glanced at Blake, snickering. He scratched the gelled ridge of his thick black bangs. 

“Sensei give you extra points for concentration today?” he asked. “Don’t let Dustin fool you, you can’t redeem those for real brownies.”

Blake winced, and rolled his eyes. “God, that’s terrible. Are bad jokes and obvious ‘we’re fucking’ trails all you Red Rangers are good for?”

Hunter grinned, and twisted his head to nip Shane’s jawline. “There’re some other things.”

Blake forced himself to breathe normally, and leaned against the wall, swallowing hard. He let the backpacks drop to the floor. The air was warm; they’d been there long enough for Hunter’s element to start affecting the environmental controls. A breeze blew all through the room; the lazy swoop of fresh air he’d learned meant Shane was happy. Wind Ninjas…they weren’t fickle, like Sensei claimed, their elements just touched so much, always reaching outward where Thunder stressed containment and controlled explosion. The temperature in Ninja Ops had dropped six degrees in wind chill alone until Shane had started to trust them. Once, Tori had gotten pissed off at them all and made it snow until Shane stopped forcing Dustin into hibernation with the cold. 

Blake’s fingers twitched around the edge of Shane’s board, pools of shadows gathering in between his knuckles. The breeze picked up, a draft smoothing over the back of Blake’s head and up to ruffle his bangs. Shane pulled back from Hunter’s mouth, and looked over at Blake, smiling. 

“You gonna hug my skateboard all night?” he asked. 

Blake felt his skin flushing and sweat gathering at the base of his neck. Shane sat up on one elbow, splaying his right hand across Hunter’s stomach for balance, tapping his fingers just above Hunter’s belly button. Hunter let go of Shane’s hip, and held out his hand towards Blake. A wave of light hovered above his palm before twisting free and disappearing. Blake dropped Shane’s board, wheels up, and walked forward. He sat down on the bed, and they made room for him. Hunter pulled him tight against his chest, and Shane reached over to grip the back of his neck, fingers dipping below his jacket. Blake slid his hand between their bodies so that Hunter’s skin graced his palm and Shane’s t-shirt rubbed against his knuckles. He sighed, and hooked his calf around Hunter’s knee.

Hunter kissed the top of his head, and pulled at him until Blake squirmed on top, with Shane at his back. He closed his eyes as they undressed him, rocking down onto Hunter while Shane stripped off his jacket, and Hunter opened his pants. 

“I was starting to think you loved that fucking board more than us,” Hunter said, and Blake opened his eyes in time to see him laugh.

“Screw you,” Shane said. “That’s my career you’re talking about.”

Shane reached around to flick Hunter on the stomach, and Hunter laughed harder. Blake grinned, and drew his own shirt off with both hands. Shane pressed up against him, hard cock in the small of Blake’s back, and pulled him away, so that Blake’s weight was in Shane’s lap as they straddled Hunter together. Shane kissed the skin behind Blake’s ear; Blake shivered. Beneath them, Hunter whined, and bucked, almost throwing them off. Air rushed between them, pushing Hunter into the bed and Blake into Shane. 

“Oh no,” Shane said. “Naked first. I mean it this time, I am not explaining any more stains to anyone, you got me?”

Hunter wriggled on the bed, and rolled his eyes. “Cam isn’t going to ask again,” he said, but his hands were already at his fly. His stick straight hair burst across the pillow in ragged tufts.

Shane hummed, leaning his chin on Blake’s shoulder, and slid his hands from Blake’s waist to his stomach. He traced his fingertips down to the red welt underneath his belly button, where his uniform pants always dug in. Blake gasped, pressing back onto Shane’s cock.

“What—what about you, oh great leader?” he asked, leaning his head back onto Shane’s shoulder. He held out his hands for balance, and Hunter caught his right, pulling it forward to bite a kiss into the heel of Blake’s palm. 

“You haven’t turned off the show yet,” Shane said. 

He rubbed his thumb just above his waistband, nail catching on the welt. Shane kissed Blake’s shoulder, and then his neck, and Blake closed his eyes. Shane was sorry; Blake knew that. He hadn’t been able to stop Cam from watching them through the surveillance cameras, but he’d won some concessions after they’d saved each other’s lives a few hundred times, a little more privacy. Cam swore he never watched them anymore, but it was still—he _had_ watched them. Blake lifted his free hand, pulling hard on the darkened corners of his mind, the places where his element lurked and not even Hunter’s lightening could break it. He lifted his hands and the shadows roiled up from his palms, while he told himself secrets he didn’t even share with Hunter. He pictured the room, and then what he wanted—what he planned while Hunter chased Cam down about murder holes, so that if they never—if Sensei was _gone_ , there would be options for them, a place they could make safe; all of them together. A Ninja Ops with a proper arsenal, shadows in every corner, and the air they breathed as dangerous as Shane wanted to make it. Shane—all the Rangers—understood where they were coming from these days.

Shane’s element curled a thousand flurries of air up and down his chest, flowing into his mouth and nose until Blake’s head spun. He opened his eyes, and his shadows had drained the overhead lamp to a dim golden light, covering the ceiling from end to end and blocking the cameras. Hunter’s lightening arced between them, jumping from Hunter’s fingers to Blake’s mouth. Blake shuddered, and Hunter moaned beneath him. It hurt a little, like static electricity branching out through his entire chest, but it was worth it. Shane clutched his hips, rocking against his ass, and the air grew heavy.

Blake arched between them, grabbing for Hunter’s shoulder with one hand, and reaching behind him to clasp the back of Shane’s head with the other. Hunter had wriggled his pants and boxers down to his knees at some point, but Blake’s hard cock ached, the head poking out of his boxer-briefs. Beneath him, Hunter wrapped his hand around his own cock and circled his fingers around the head, moaning. He reached out and tangled his free hand with Shane’s. 

They broke apart, rubbing in opposite directions on either side of Blake’s cock, and then both of Shane’s hands lifted. He slipped his two first fingers into the slit of Blake’s underwear, and pulled the damp fabric apart. Blake licked his lips, panting as his dick slid out into the air and into Hunter's waiting palm. Hunter grinned up at him, and little tremors of lightening shivered off his fingers to backs of Shane’s hands. Shane bucked behind him, and muffled a groan into Blake’s shoulder; Shane wasn’t as used to the feeling as he was yet. 

“You’re making the light go out,” Shane said, shaking out a laugh against Blake’s back. “You’re gonna get us into trouble.”

Hunter rocked his thumb into Blake’s circumcision scar, and grinned. Blake raised his eyebrows, and Hunter shook his head. He tightened his grip and Blake bit his lower lip, staring down at him. Fuck, life with the Winds was softening them; Hunter hadn’t looked that young in years. The mattress springs groaned beneath his knees as he tried to thrust into Hunter’s fist, but Shane’s hands held him still. 

“Nah,” Hunter said. “Blake’ll talk us out of it, right bro?”

Shane’s hips thrust him into Hunter’s grip; heavy air kept him from folding down completely. 

“Fuck you,” Blake said, gasping. 

“That’s the idea,” Shane said, with barely a hiccup. He was so different now, not like when they’d first kissed in front of him, when he’d stammered and blushed. He'd never stopped watching, though; Shane never looked away. He’d just made room for them both, when everyone else only made room for one. 

The air pushed at him from all sides, bending Blake down to balance on top of Hunter’s chest so that Shane could pull off their pants the rest of the way. The bed bounced, rocking him and Hunter together. Hunter tilted Blake's head up by his hair, sucking Blake’s lower lip into his mouth and then sealing their lips together. Blake’s muscles shook each time Hunter’s fingers sparked against his skin, arcing up and down his spine as he rode Hunter’s hip. Behind them, he could hear Shane moving around, the rustle of his clothes, and the scrape of a drawer opening. 

The bed dipped, rolling them sideways into Shane, and they both reached out to draw him in. Blake leaned over, kissing the dark lines in the oval tattoo circling Shane’s navel, and flicking his tongue against the rim. The crackle of lightening above made Shane cling harder; a heavy roll of air pulled them closer to each other. Blake opened his mouth wider, and sucked at the cut of Shane’s hip, half-sandwiched and half-on top of both of them. He laughed, and sat up, wriggling free and falling down on Hunter's right.

He molded himself to Hunter’s back, and dragged his thumb down from the base of Hunter’s spine to his hole. Hunter moaned, and reached out, clutching Shane tightly against his front. He threw his leg over Shane’s, jerking his hips. The air swirled and dipped around them, faster and faster. Blake could feel his hair standing on end; his shadows matching their current, trapped in place.

He watched Shane’s eyes widen over Hunter’s shoulder, and grinned. Hunter shook between them, and Blake reached in to soothe a hand over his belly; his fingers stumbled over Shane’s hand pumping Hunter's dick. He felt his own pulse jump, and hooked his chin up and over Hunter’s body for a kiss. Shane’s mouth was soft and slick; his tongue traced along Blake’s upper lip before slipping inside. Blake felt his eyelids lower; his breathing stutter in his chest. He forced his eyes to open, to watch every single second until the end. A whine, edged like a saw, whirred to life in Blake’s chest. 

He tilted his head, and strained up for more, thrusting his stiff cock into the underside of Hunter’s ass. His hand tightened around Hunter’s cock and Shane's fingers. Shane muttered into their kiss, and let go. He reached out, and wrapped his left arm around them both. He clutched them close, forcing them into a rhythm, and jerked his head sideways. Blake gasped. He worked his arm free, tingling with nerves, and dropped it around Shane’s hip. He kissed Hunter’s ear and the side of his head, wincing as the lightening cracked strongly enough to blow the lamp and sunk them into darkness. The air rushed over them, and Blake dragged it into his lungs.

They shifted, or the wind shifted them, and Blake lost track. He felt Hunter all along his front, sweat-slick body against his like it had been since they were teenagers, but then Hunter was rolling him onto his back, twisting in Blake's hold like a snake. Blake nibbled at the corner of Hunter’s mouth like Hunter had taught him years ago, but then slick fingers—Shane’s hand, it was big and wide and careful—skimmed between his legs, thrusting deeper and harder inside of him with each breath Blake managed to catch hold of. Hunter’s lightening crackled at his nipples, and Blake’s shadows burst through his skin, dragging out his element until the entire room was lit only where Hunter was touching him and Shane. Blake could feel his own shadows _everywhere_ , wherever he wanted, making the space his and theirs' and nothing had to exist outside of it. 

They shifted again, and then Shane’s fingers became Shane’s cock, while Hunter kissed down his throat and moved over to Blake’s side. Blake shouted, driving himself down onto Shane and clutching Hunter by the shoulders. Shane held him open with both hands, lifting him up at the thighs, and pounding inside with sharp bursts of energy. Their rhythm broke and reformed as Shane thrust, changed his angle, and then kept changing until he’d found the spot that made Blake writhe. Blake dug his hands into Hunter’s hair, whining into his open mouth.

He arched his back, toes curling, but then suddenly the air was too heavy to be moved, a slab of heated stone that thudded against his chest and stayed, a constant pressure. Blake’s mouth dropped open towards the ceiling, his throat tightened as sparks flashed in front of his eyes, red to blue to purest white as his vision tunneled to nothing. Shane’s hands were clamped around his legs, his cock was thick and heavy inside of Blake. He felt Hunter gasp at his throat, but everything was a distant ache, nothing to the shadows funneling down from the ceiling to drench his body. He thought he heard someone wail.

A snap of lightening fractured the air, right where the lamp should have been, and suddenly Blake could breathe again. He fell back against the bed, shoveling lungfuls into his chest as fast as he could, and winced as Shane pulled out of him. He wriggled as Shane flopped down on his other side, and shivered. Hunter patted Blake’s stomach. They breathed together, skin to skin to skin, and Blake stared up at the cracked overhead lamp. The room was lit only by the emergency bulbs on either side of the bedroom door.

“Cam’s not going to like that,” Shane muttered, eyes already closed. “Sixth time this week.”

“I’ll add it to the shopping list,” Hunter said into Blake’s shoulder. 

Blake snorted, still looking up at the broken light fixture. Answering snores rose up on either side of him. He yawned, shaking his head, and wriggled free enough to curl onto his side. Shane’s knuckles brushed his hip. Blake sighed and sat up long enough to drag the blankets up from the end of the bed and over them. Hunter was motionless behind him, as still as if he were dead, but Shane woke up. He smiled as Blake settled back down, and patted him on the stomach. Blake rubbed a hand over his face, making Shane giggle softly, and smack Blake’s wrist with the backs of his fingers.

“Go to sleep,” Shane whispered. 

“You first,” Blake whispered back.

“Everybody _now_ ,” Hunter said, and flopped onto his stomach.

Blake grinned, and Shane shrugged, rolling his eyes. They lay down, and Blake felt their bodies relax as they fell back asleep. He listened to the pattern of their breathing, memorizing it again, as he reached out and twirled a film of shadow over the emergency lights. The room plunged into darkness, and Blake settled in.


End file.
